The Big Dipper
by deGorgeous
Summary: Hook and Henry spend the night gazing at the stars. Based on spoiler photos and reports from filming for 3x16.


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Henry walked at a brisk pace along the beach. Hook was having trouble keeping up (though he'd never admit to it). He looked on as the boy raked his splintering stick along the sand, leaving long and winding lines in his wake. Hook was careful not to step on any of his illustrations.

He caught up eventually when Henry stopped to stand atop a wide, jagged rock (Hook was keenly aware of the boy's footing, making sure he didn't fall or cut himself against the rough stone). Even with the added height, the Captain still towered over the boy. Soon, however, he estimated that the boy would outgrow even him.

Emma had tasked him—and it really was more of a kindly delivered demand than a request—with watching her son while she and David went to check on a reported disturbance on the other side of town. But these days, any sort of a commotion had the potential of grave danger attached to it. Hook had insisted he join them, eager to lend his help and anxious at the thought of leaving her side (a year of torturous separation tended to have that effect) but was persuaded to stay. And then she had uttered the three words that had been echoing in his mind ever since: "I trust you."

It hadn't been the words themselves that had taken him aback—although the idea of having finally earned her trust had left him breathless—but instead it was the casual way in which she had said them. Matter-of-factly, so obvious. Of course she trusted him, how could he think otherwise?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

The high-pitched voice and wide-eyed expression of the kid standing beside him immediately grabbed his attention. Henry's head was bent backwards, his neck straining to make eye contact with the pirate. Brown bangs obscured his face, the light breeze moving them the left side of his nose.

"Certainly, lad." Hook stood straighter, his shoulders flexing with the movement.

"If I was a sailor on your ship," he began brightly, his eyes affixed now to the shoreline in front of them. "What would I be?"

Hook laughed, pleased by the young man's curiosity and enthusiasm. Never had anyone inquired so fondly about his line of work (most people queried out of fear, others to condescend). "I'm not sure I follow."

"You know, like what job would I have. What would my title be?"

"_Ooh_, well that all depends on what you're best at." The Captain's response took a more playful tone, one appropriate for a child of Henry's age: not patronizing, but not indifferent either. It was the way Liam used to talk to him many centuries ago. But no, Hook thought, Henry is not like a younger brother. More like a son—

"Uh," Henry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands plunged deep within his coat pockets. He looked towards the sky as he contemplated what his talents might be, rejecting several that popped into his head that he deemed unsuitable for a pirate ship. "I guess, I can tie knots really well."

"Don't sell yourself so short, my boy." Hook patted Henry on the back, thankful he had taken to using his false hand instead of his namesake. "Anyone can be taught to tie a good knot." He followed the boy's gaze, marveling at the stars that sprinkled across the dark blue sky above.

It was a cloudless night, which made the air that much cooler and harsh. But Hook existed for nights like these: skin chilled by the occasional gust of wind, the crashes of the waves and erosion of the sand beneath you the only sound against the almost absolute silence.

Henry himself hadn't ever fully appreciated the beauty of Storybrooke. New York was nice—the vision of city lights and buildings like mountain ranges was something he did miss—but the calm of this small town was a quality no metropolis could ever achieve.

"Something tells me you'd be a masterful navigator," Hook pointed upward, observing Henry's fixation with the constellations overhead.

"You think so?" Henry practically beamed, excited by the prospect of being useful.

It was then that the Captain fully grasped the impact being away from Emma had on the child. It was different from the pain he himself had felt. Yes, Henry cared for the safety of his mother, the same way he cared for the well-being of every single member of his ever-expanding family. But more than that, Henry was someone who needed a purpose; he needed to be a part of something bigger than himself.

"I've no doubt of that," he replied gently, his voice low and sincere.

"My dad once told me it was hard," Henry commented, more of an after thought than an intended shift in topic. "He said it involved a lot of math." He frowned at the memory, a sort of longing for a different time. "But I'm pretty good at math." He hopped off the rock, landing ungracefully on the wet ground, his arms flying at his sides for balance. Hook chuckled, his right hand tangling in Henry's hair as he gave the messy strands a good shake. "You like the stars too, though, right?"

"What makes you say that, lad?"

"In your room back on the ship." Hook's hand left Henry's head, his body tensing at the mention of their mission to Neverland all those months ago. After all this time the boy still remembered. "You had a bunch of maps near the bed. I may have taken a look," he admitted with feigned embarrassment.

"Quite right." He eyed Henry suspiciously, his brow arching in mock disapproval. "Though I haven't had the chance to gander at this world's star maps, I'm afraid. Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two." Hook winked, giving him a slanted grin.

"Ok!" he piped. Henry paused again, examining the sky for a cluster a stars that would serve a good first lesson. "Over there." Henry's index finger darted out, firmly indicating the path of the constellation, which apparently had very sharp corners. "That's the Big Dipper."

The rest of their evening was spent this way: Henry identifying a pattern of sparkling light, and Hook struggling to understand the forms they were meant to resemble (why there was more than one constellation devoted to a glorified spoon he would never understand). It was all Henry would talk about even hours after reuniting with Emma.

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End file.
